Thursday,
Another poem that got lost somewhere in the wilderness of my flash-drive.
More Than Dark
to like more than bright,
more than dawning seams
A waddle-walk across the sky bows
him before the garden crow who woos
and make her glass devoid of knees
creak and scrape and beg upon
Let her cry, may she weep for sight,
grieve for all those window dreams gone by.
—rrw o7-24-13
Another poem that got lost somewhere in the wilderness of my flash-drive.
More Than Dark
More dark than pale this night
which the windowpane seemsto like more than bright,
more than dawning seams
that a stitching morning sun sews
to the bottom of his shoes.A waddle-walk across the sky bows
him before the garden crow who woos
the grass and tends to evening trees.
No, let a kind, black darkness come
alongand make her glass devoid of knees
creak and scrape and beg upon
her fragile shadow-sills. Refracted
light
burning yellow in her one good eye.Let her cry, may she weep for sight,
grieve for all those window dreams gone by.
—rrw o7-24-13
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